


try

by smudgythoughts



Series: femslash drabbles [11]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, I love dramatic clothes-sharing girlfriends, ok knitting became a thing??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgythoughts/pseuds/smudgythoughts
Summary: She sends Eve clothes, anI forgive youin the only way she knows how.Or, Villanelle continues her tradition of buying Eve expensive clothes, then invites Eve out on a date.





	try

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to challenge myself by writing in villanelle's pov. idk if it's... witty or non-american enough?? but I hope it's at least okay

Villanelle has a weak spot for Eve the size of the Berliner Fernsehturm.

It's been a month since – _since_ , and all Villanelle can think about is how much she misses her. Eve, who stabbed her. Eve, with her dark eyes and her lips made for kissing and the untampered darkness beneath the surface and her hair, god, her hair. Villanelle can't stop seeing Eve, beneath her, fingernails raking down her back. Her eyes fluttering as Villanelle pulls at her hair. And for the first time in awhile, truly, she _wants_.

Naturally, she sends Eve clothes, an _I forgive you_ in the only way she knows how. With a note attached, reading, _meet me at the Reinstoff on Sunday, at seven, baby. it's a date_. Then she waits.

 

Eve is gorgeous. Not that she wasn’t before. But seeing her in clothes that Villanelle picked out for her—a low-cut chanel black dress with little white feathers at the bottom—makes possessiveness curl up her spine. “You look ravishing, baby,” Villanelle says to her. “Whoever bought you that dress has… exquisite taste.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her,” Eve deadpans. She doesn't look as nervous as Villanelle thought she would.

Villanelle laughs, a smile pulling at her lips.

“Do you need anything before I go?” The waiter interrupts. He had glared at Villanelle while he was seating Eve. Villanelle doesn't like him.

“A bottle of your finest wine, to start.” Villanelle finally has Eve in front of her, and now this waiter won't. Leave. Them. Alone. Villanelle's fingernails dig so hard into her palm she can feel them start to leave marks. “And some Pork Sausage-Stuffed Mushrooms as an appetizer, please.”

"I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

As soon as the waiter is gone, Eve turns to her and says, “I don’t know why I came." Villanelle is still drinking her in. She holds herself with an almost agitated confidence, like she possesses a power she doesn't know quite what to do with. It's attractive.

“Well I invited you because I missed you, if that helps,” Villanelle says.

Eve stares down her her hands.

“I wish you had kissed me,” Villanelle says, wistful. With any other woman, she would have said it like a flirtation, but with Eve, it’s a confession.

Eve stares at her for a long moment. “I wish I had too,” she says, ever so softly.

“Okay, so that’s one thing we’re sure of,” Villanelle says. “Isn’t that enough?” She brings a hand out to cover Eve's own, fingertips brushing her knuckles. Eve doesn't pull away.

“I don’t–this isn’t going to _work_ , Villanelle, as much as the two of us want it to.” A family walks by—two women with a son skipping behind them—and Eve lowers her voice. “You’ve _murdered_ countless people, and even though I’m not the detective on your case anymore—Carolyn made sure of that—I certainly shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Don’t you want to at least _try_ , though, baby?”

Eve runs a hand through her hair. "I shouldn't."

"But you want to." It's not a question.

"I believe someone ordered Stuffed Mushrooms," the waiter says, sauntering over.

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Eve says to Villanelle, getting out of her chair, putting her purse onto her arm, the purse Villanelle bought her. She hurries away before Villanelle can say another word.

"So, what would you like as an entree?" The waiter—Ernst Mayer—asks. His name looked better on the postcard Villanelle was sent by the Twelve. She wanted to see if she could stop, for Eve, if Eve could rein her in. But Eve isn't here, and Villanelle is tired.

"Your head on a platter."

The waiter laughs. He won't be laughing later.

 

Villanelle hadn’t moved apartments – since. If Eve had sent the police to her address, she wouldn't have fought, or run. Because she trusts Eve to know what is right for her, for them. No one ever came.

Two days after their date, a package arrives on her doorstep.

Inside is an orange knit scarf. It's the ugliest thing she's ever seen. A note attached says, _I reconsidered your offer. here's a gift for you, baby. I made it myself._ Villanelle wraps the scarf around her neck. Eve knitted her something, and it smells like her, and it's hideous, and Villanelle feels more giddy than she's ever been.

Maybe they can work this out. She is willing to _try_ , as it seems Eve is.

**Author's Note:**

> "I wish you had kissed me" line shamelessly taken from [professional boundaries by yotoob](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14804646/chapters/34253739)
> 
> and villanelle wishing eve had kissed her, like the idea of it, is shamelessly taken from the show itself, because that's canon


End file.
